Ful wel she sange the service devine,Entuned in hire nose ful swetely;And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly,After the scole of Stratford atte bowe,For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe.

Geoffrey Chaucer

A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also.

Geoffrey Chaucer

For him was lever han at his beddes hedA twenty bokes, clothed in black or red,Of Aristotle, and his philosophie,Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.But all be that he was a philosophre,Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.

Geoffrey Chaucer

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

Geoffrey Chaucer

Nowher so besy a man as he ther n as,And yet he semed besier than he was.

Geoffrey Chaucer

His studie was but litel on the Bible.

Geoffrey Chaucer

For gold in phisike is a cordial;Therefore he loved gold in special.

Geoffrey Chaucer

Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder.

Geoffrey Chaucer

This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf,--That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught.

Geoffrey Chaucer

But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,He taught; but first he folwed it himselve.

Geoffrey Chaucer

And yet he had a thomb of gold parde.

Geoffrey Chaucer

Who so shall telle a tale after a man,He moste reherse, as neighe as ever he can,Everich word, if it be in his charge,All speke he never so rudely and so large;Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe,Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.

Geoffrey Chaucer

For May wol have no slogardie a-night.The seson priketh every gentil herte,And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.

Geoffrey Chaucer

That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.

Geoffrey Chaucer

Up rose the sonne, and up rose Emelie.

Geoffrey Chaucer

Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.

Geoffrey Chaucer

To maken vertue of necessite.

Geoffrey Chaucer

And brought of mighty ale a large quart.

Geoffrey Chaucer

Ther n is no werkman whatever he be,That may both werken wel and hastily.This wol be done at leisure parfitly.